


Together

by alwaysatime (orphan_account)



Series: Touch [3]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Character Death, F/M, Reincarnation, WWII
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-01
Updated: 2013-05-03
Packaged: 2017-12-10 01:50:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/780385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/alwaysatime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were never destined to touch, yet when it all ended (for it always ended, no matter how hard they tried,) they were too late. A series of reincarnation one-shots featuring Éponine and Enjolras. 3/5 planned reincarnation cycles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Together

The Saar Offensive - 1939

_They died together - each on the others' mind - even though they were miles and miles apart._

_-.-.-_

She was simply a factory worker, one of many working women, sister to one of many men going off to fight the war. Her name was Evelyn, and she lived day-to-day hoping the war would end, even though it had yet to fully begin. He was the foreman's son, only to eager to be deployed, ready to prove himself to his country. His name was Edwin, and his father was damn well proud to have his son go off to fight.

They knew each other, but had hardly talked. What was the point? They would probably never see each other again.

She spotted him often, talking amiably to her brother about the upcoming war. They were to go together into the thick of things, Maurice and Edwin. Silly boys to fight against the Germans. She thought her brother a fool, he was leaving behind his heartbroken mother and his work-worn sister to fight a man's war.

She knew he was mature beyond his years but she still hated him. Hated him for dragging her brother into the French Army (even though they had been conscripted), hated him for being able to do the right thing so easily when all she wanted was to lock Maurice up until it was all over.

He spotted her often - Maurice's older sister, who always so stubborn and defensive. They were two opposites as far as siblings went, she was angry at Maurice for choosing the war over family, and he was angry at her for the exact same reasons, only flipped. But what choice was there for either of them? They were to capture the land up until the Siegfried Line and hold the border.

He knew she was capable of letting them go, but she hated them both. Hated him especially, he could tell by the way she refused to meet his gaze - the upward tilt of her chin that told him she couldn't stand to be in his presence when he talked Maurice about the _Wehrmacht_ in Poland.

_They never see the hate that's in your head ..._

_-.-.-_

_But he was gone when autumn came ..._

The last day before they where shipped off for training was filled with tearful goodbyes from families and friends. Maurice had pressed a letter into her hand for their mother, who had been to ill to come to see him off. Evelyn took the letter, but slapped him hard across the face, staining his cheeks with colour before flinging her arms around him in a strangle-hold. Maurice's arms came around weakly to hug her as Evelyn buried her face into his shoulder.

"You'd better - better come home." Her muffled voice cracked in the middle of the sentence.

As the amusement from her temporary assault faded away, Edwin felt embarrassed to witness this show of emotion from the girl who had always kept her heartfelt feelings locked away. Evelyn was extremely headstrong; protective of her younger brother and frail mother. With their father long gone, she worked more than her entire family combined to keep them afloat. In some ways, it proved the point she often made about how Maurice was not yet old enough to leave. In other ways, it didn't matter how old he was, in the end he would simply be one man of many.

Evelyn had been terrified of war ever since she was little. The finely spun tales her father used to tell her and Maurice when they were children had only frightened her. The idea of useless bloodshed stole itself into her mind, leaving behind the voices of crying orphans and childless mothers. Tales of World War I had become common over the past week, this being the first week of the new war. This, coupled with the fact that they lived in one of the border towns near Germany, did little to stiffen her resolve that Maurice and Edwin would come home.

As she pulled away from Maurice, Edwin examined her face for traces of tears, but found none. He couldn't quite describe how he felt seeing her not cry, since it weighed the idea of her being strong against the idea of her not letting Maurice know how much she truly cared for him before he left.

Evelyn approached him then, and without thinking he took a half-step back. Her face flinched, just enough for him to see the crack in her mask before it resumed it's normal blankness. An apologetic look flashed across his face.

"You're not going to hit me too, are you?"

It was meant as a joke, but quick as a flash her nose was once again upturned as she gazed at him through narrowed eyes.

"I meant to tell you to look after Maurice," she paused, as if assessing him momentarily, "and to come home too."

"I promise," he told her quickly, glad for the reprieve.

She waited until she saw the relieved smile stretched across his face before turning away. Evelyn's first priority was for her brother to live, but it didn't stop her from feeling guilty about not acknowledging the true sacrifices he and Edwin were making.

"God, Evelyn, the things you do," Maurice shook his head at her as she returned to his side, still nursing his now bruised cheek.

She swung a loose arm around his shoulder, smiling. "You mean the things I do for you," she tapped his nose affectionately. Her heart hurt with the goodbye she wanted to say, but Evelyn couldn't bring herself to be weak. Emotions made people weak, she'd learned that lesson long ago. No one cared if you cried, or if you got burned at the factory. You were useful as long as you remained stoic.

"Right," Maurice sighed, as if she was tiring him with her words. " _Ma petite sœur_. I'll miss you." It was his affectionate name for her, 'little sister'. The fact that she was older than him - and never neglected to remind him about it - had always been a sore spot for him.

Edwin turned away from them and went to join the rest of the men who had no family to see them off. His father might have been proud of him, but that didn't mean he cared enough to spend the day by his son's side. They would not see Evelyn again for maybe five years, and Edwin found that it hurt more than it should have.

_There's a pain goes on and on ..._

-.-.-

_Will you join in our crusade? **  
**_

They'd trained for what had seemed like forever. Maurice appeared to become more disheartened as it wore on. Partly, Edwin blamed himself for it. Partly, he blamed their commanding officer, who was a brutal man who showed no mercy.

Part of Edwin prayed for it to end, too.

Weapons and Maurice made for a poor match, since Maurice had a terrible time with the aiming aspect. With Edwin's help, however, he managed to improve well enough to survive Jaquet's wrath.

Edwin himself was an excellent shot and a wonderful teacher. While the men were not under Jaquet's watchful gaze, they looked to Edwin as a sort of leader. There was a number of them bunked together, Maurice, Edwin, Jolin, Julien, Combes, Coyne, Ferrand, Bayard, Lisle, and a rather pessimistic man named Grégoire.

Together, they formed some sort of camaraderie - the kind of friendship that held fast even in the face of punishment. When Grégoire was discovered piss-drunk at 5h00 with alcohol from god-knew-where, they worked together to lift the intoxicated man back to his bunk, and Jolin covered for the lot of them when Jaquet came by saying Grégoire was ill. After the hangover had let up, Grégoire had been pleased with the new excuse he had to miss out on the early morning runs.

Evelyn had only written to Maurice at first, only tagging on a few lines in her often shaky script wishing Edwin well, but soon it increased to the point where the now separate letters she wrote Edwin were longer than the ones she wrote Maurice. If Maurice noticed this, he said nothing.

-.-.-

"Evelyn? This some mistress you've been keeping from me? You've been holding out on us, Edwin!" Grégoire accused, clapping a hand on Edwin's shoulder. Edwin had been trying to read Evelyn's latest letter, but it appeared that it was not going to happen any time soon.

"She's not a mistress - she's Maurice's sister," Edwin managed to bite out. This did not help matters, Edwin realized belatedly as Grégoire's eyes widened in sparkling amusement. Drunk or no, sometimes he could be a nuisance. Still, Edwin couldn't find it in himself to treat Grégoire as anything other than a friend. Somehow even while he was inebriated the man managed to stay likable, despite how often he bordered on the line of insolence.

"Seeing _Maurice's_ sister? You saucy devil!" Grégoire laughed loudly as Edwin buried his head in his hands, rubbing his scalp through his thick blonde hair. "You've got it bad, my friend. What are you doing here, when you could be with her-" Grégoire shifted his hips in an obscene gesture that made Edwin want to throw the drunk out bodily, "-in bed?"

"Go away, Grégoire."

"Sure thing, Apollo." The man gave him a salute before exiting, no doubt off to tell the rest of the men this new information regarding their unspoken, lion-haired leader. Even sober, Grégoire wouldn't have been able to keep it to himself, Edwin mused in a resigned fashion as he returned to the paper. It was a lost cause. He'd been lucky enough to get away with it for as long as he had, anyways. Evelyn had written about an odd sense of déjà vu regarding some gown that she thought was amusing ...

-.-.-

Little compliments had begun to seep their way into Edwin's letters, though she had tried not to notice. She was seated in her room by herself, reading Edwin's latest letter by candlelight as to not disturb her mother. It was nice writing to Edwin and teasing him. After Edwin had told her about Grégoire's affectionate nickname for him, she'd started addressing her letters with 'Dear Apollo'. He had told her to stop in nearly every letter after the first one, but Evelyn could tell it was only half-hearted.

" _Dear Apollo,_ " she whispered, tracing the letters onto the page, " _How goes your chariot racing?_ "

Perhaps she was growing fond of him - just a little bit. She wouldn't allow herself anything closer than that - because what was the use of being fond of him when he was going off to war? She already worried enough about her brother, she didn't need to additionally fret about Edwin, who could surely handle himself if he could handle his friends.

-.-.-

"Chariot racing?" Maurice interrupted in a bemused voice, looming over a currently seated Edwin. "Perhaps there is more to Grégoire's drunken ramblings that meets the eye. You must be smitten with her if you're letting her call you Apollo."

"I'm not, I keep telling her not to - she thinks it's funny," Edwin replied, snatching the letter back from Maurice so he could finish reading it. He didn't seem to be able to read his letters in peace anymore - someone would always come along and read over his shoulder or take the letter to read aloud in front of the others. Inwardly, he was a bit pleased at the fact that they cared enough to be interested, but that came after reading Evelyn's letters in private. Her words for him weren't meant for sharing with the others.

"I think it's amusing as well, but you don't see me asking how your chariot races are going, Edwin," scoffed Coyne from across the room. Edwin shook his head, giving his friend a patronizing smile.

"You're all just jealous!" He wasn't sure what made him say it, but it sent all of his friends into loud bouts of laughter, which, eventually, Edwin joined in on.

-.-.-

A few months later they were told France was joining the war against the Germans. They were to be lead into Germany's Western territory.

Maurice could not have been more pleased at the news - it meant they would finally be doing something other than early morning runs and drills. Edwin was both excited and nervous at the chance to prove himself in war, but the face he showed his comrades was that of a man who was made out of marble - a man who showed no fear. He was their rock - their leader - their Apollo. He would not fail them. _  
_

He and Maurice made plans to stop by their hometown (as they lived in a bordertown, it was likely where they would stop for supplies before they left for Germany) to see Evelyn. Evelyn had not been able to afford to go visit them before, but now they would go to see her. Maurice was happy, and although the men would tease him endlessly about it - so was Edwin.

-.-.- _  
_

When they arrived, both Edwin and Maurice searched the crowd for her. Evelyn saw the two of them first, looking for all the world like two lost puppies. Edwin spotted her before Maurice did, his blue eyes sparkling as their gazes met. She was wearing her new dress, the pretty plum-coloured one she had mentioned.

It had been in the shop window of a boutique that she would have never gone into normally - there was no money in her budget for expensive gowns and the like, usually - but the dress that had seemed startlingly familiar. Upon closer inspection the dress was rather plainer than she had thought it to be - which ended up being a good thing, since it was more affordable. After an uncomfortable period of time filled with withering stares from the shop girl, Evelyn had finally caved in and purchased it. Evelyn justified the purchase with the fact that she had been due for a new dress anyhow. In reality, she may have been thinking of a certain blond-haired, blue-eyed soldier.

She approached her two boys now - at first with small steps, then large, leaping ones - and tackled an unsuspecting Maurice.

"Hello!" she exclaimed cheerfully to them both. Some of the other men who were watching the exchange snickered.

Maurice's face was red as he picked up his sister, swinging her around in a circle. "Evelyn! glad to see me in one piece?"

"Of course! Glad to see you and Edwin both," she added, turning to face the latter, her arms still wrapped around her brother's neck.

"Evelyn," Edwin pulled a hand out from where it had been stuffed deep into a pocket in greeting. The smile he remembered Evelyn usually reserved for Maurice spread across her lips. He couldn't help but smile back. "I'm guessing you got my last letter then?"

Evelyn released Maurice from his chokehold and angled herself so she was facing them both. "I sure did," she nodded, "both of your letters."

"I thought you'd be mad we dropped by without telling you," Maurice sheepishly remarked, rumpling his curly hair with his now-free hand.

"I'm not mad 'bout that," Evelyn assured him, "I'm mad that you both aren't staying here!" A frown creased her brow as she punched Maurice's shoulder.

"Ow! Evelyn!"

"You know, maybe your sister should enroll as a soldier instead, Maurice," said a drawling voice. "She seems like she could hold her own."

"I'm guessing you're Grégoire," Evelyn smirked at the drunkard.

"Guilty as charged," the man held up his bottle before taking a sweeping bow. "And I am pleased to finally meet the _mademoiselle_ who's gotten our Apollo smitten."

"I'm not smitten!"

Evelyn watched Edwin struggle to maintain a neutral, slightly detached expression with amusement. She poked her tongue out at the now-laughing men as she strode over to Edwin and slung an arm around his shoulders. She felt Edwin stiffen at her side for a moment, but what she hadn't seen was Grégoire mouthing 'saucy devil' at him from behind her.

"You're all just jealous!" she declared dramatically.

" _Tres_ r _omantique_! Edwin said the same thing about you last month! Ah, two halves of the same soul, I'll bet you anything. Whatever happens to one, happens to the other." One of the men remarked to another, who nodded in agreement. Evelyn wondered idly whether this was the poet, Julien, that Edwin had written about. She felt as if she knew most of them already. Perhaps she had seen them in passing on the street at some moment in her life.

"Those two haven't got a prayer!" Grégoire countered, "Lovesick fools, the both of them."

"Obviously your definition of 'lovesick' is a lot more than a little different than mine," Edwin grumbled.

"Come Apollo, let's get something to eat. I didn't beg the day off work for nothing, you know." Evelyn grabbed his arm along with Maurice's and proceeded to drag them off. Spending time with Edwin ought to be a lot more fun than writing to him was, she reasoned.

-.-.-

"So are the two of you actually -" Maurice gestured at the space between his sister and his friend, "- together?" He saw the discomfort of Edwin's face for a brief moment - saw the light blush that coated Evelyn's cheeks. Oh, _merde_ , he thought to himself. His thick-headed as he could be sometimes, he could definitely tell the difference between a focused-Edwin and a distracted-Edwin. "If you are, you ought to tell me, you know. I promise I won't tell Grégoire or any of the others." Maurice allowed a bit of the smugness he felt about figuring the two of them out show on his face. All he needed now was the verbal confirmation.

"Don't you have more important things to worry about - like finding yourself a girl?" Edwin silently applauded his Evelyn's attempt to avoid the topic.

"I've got lots of time for that!" Maurice declared, raising his glass to them both. "Love is the garden of the young, Evelyn, and you and Edwin are fast approaching the gate!"

"You swine!" Evelyn retorted, but she was laughing all the same. "I thought I was your _petite sœur_!"

"You, my friend, have had a bit too much to drink," Edwin added, much to Maurice's dismay. He'd wanted to get a confession out of them both - he wanted nothing more than to see Evelyn happy; to see Edwin happy - but the two of them seemed intent on avoiding any chance at a relationship with each other. Morosely, Maurice clinked his glass against Edwin's stationary one and took a long drink.

-.-.-

"So, is there anything I can do for you before I go? Chores around the house? Leaky roofs to be fixed?" Maurice had begun rambling somewhere after his second drink. The young man did not hold liquor very well, it seemed.

"Just come home," Evelyn said without smiling, all jokes and laughter forgotten now in face of somber reality. "Just come home, that's what you can do for me." If he came home everything would be alright.

Maurice nodded, and they were both quiet for a moment, her arm now resting lightly on his shoulder.

"Mama and I will pray for you everyday," she told him quietly.

Maurice's hand reached to stroke her hair gently, trying vainly to make the messy brown curls tame. "I know you will."

Inside, Edwin knew, he would be praying for Maurice to come home too, if only for Evelyn's sake.

-.-.-

The last day of their visit held the same mood as the end of their afternoon out did - a quiet, thoughtful one.

"You know, I never told you how nice you look in that dress, Evelyn," Maurice said, giving his sister a wistful smile. It startled Edwin, mainly because he could have sworn that the dress wasn't new at all, and that it had been accompanied by a pair of white gloves. Evelyn never wore gloves, however. Why would she? She was a working girl. Edwin knew for a fact her hands were calloused and rough from work. He shook his head back and forth a few times, trying to clear his mind.

"Figures it would be the last thing you notice, Maurice. You're such a boy." Evelyn sighed, ruffling her brother's hair lovingly as she stood on the tips of her toes to kiss his cheek. Maurice blushed, and Edwin felt a pang of jealousy - which was honestly ridiculous because Maurice was her brother, not her suitor. The two siblings were wrapped in a warm embrace, and Evelyn had buried her face into her brother's brown curls.

"Come home. Promise." Evelyn's voice was cracked and hoarse as Maurice struggled to maintain his composure. If he cried, it would do them both no good.

"I promise. I promise. _Je t'aime_ , Evelyn."

Evelyn's face spoke of times gone by, of sunshine and happy childhood memories that only the two of them had shared.

" _Je t'aime, aussi_." She wiped away at the tiny tears that had formed in her eyes and dried her damp hands on her skirts. There was a moment as she composed herself. Edwin hoped that she would miss him as much as she would miss Maurice; hoped that she would kiss him goodbye as well.

Edwin watched as she turned to face him. She might not have been conventionally beautiful, but he thought she was lovely - pretty, even. Her eyes shone with emotion and quiet laughter, a startling change from the normal, detached demeanor she usually wore around him. Evelyn approached with quick, fleeting steps, looking as if her feet floated above the ground. Her arms wrapped around him briefly - her cheek resting on his shoulder for a second before she pulled away.

There was a moment when she stared at him with her large brown eyes. Suddenly, Edwin thought that she was going to kiss him.

Edwin leaned in slightly then, and Evelyn blinked quickly before taking a half-step back. He flinched, even as the apologetic look flashed across her face.

"Be safe," she told him instead.

"I will," he told her, trying not to let the crushing feeling of disappointment show.

_Who will be strong and stand with me?_

-.-.-

_Red - the blood of angry men ..._

Then they were gone. They were all gone. Taken by force by the German army. Wounded and dead, by the hundreds. By the force of those deadly mines. Edwin knew they'd been foolishly optimistic for too long. Their slow trek across the German territory had been so easily thwarted once the Germans had put themselves to battle, especially after they had been ordered to withdraw. They'd been outmaneuvered - therefore they'd lost the Siegfried Line - and they'd lost the battle.

Maurice had been fatally wounded, and it was all Edwin could do to keep the poor boy alive.

His shoulders ached as he dragged the unconscious body towards the shrubbery. Maurice had lost a good part of his leg, and was now delirious with pain.

" _Evelyn_ ," Maurice gasped, shaking and pale from loss of blood. " _Evelyn ... tell ... 'mm sorry_."

"Quiet!" Edwin moaned, glancing nervously over his shoulder. Maurice's life had been entrusted to him, whether he'd wanted it to be or not. He owed Evelyn to at least try, even if it cost him his own life. He would do it for Evelyn, whether she'd asked to do it or not. He loved Evelyn enough to at least try. Even if it cost him his own life.

Crouched low, Edwin hovered over Maurice, thinking. The difficulty in returning to safer land was in avoiding the mines that the Germans had so generously planted around the area. To do that, he wouldn't be able to go dragging Maurice all over the ground. He'd have to carry him, which would also slow him down.

_-.-.-_

_What's the use of praying, if there's nobody who hears?_

Evelyn was working with the machinery as cautiously as she could, attempting to teach the idiotic new girl how to use it. Still, she was more distracted than usual, as her thoughts kept constantly flickering back to the two young men she had seen off at the start of autumn. News was notoriously slow, even though they were so close. Were they alright? Were they alive?

No, she couldn't allow herself to think about that. Each evening she lit a candle and prayed to God that they would return unscathed. So far all the news had been good, France's divisions had been slowly trudging across German territory, seizing area that had been seemingly abandoned by German militia. Now that they were supposed to retreat, Evelyn hoped she would see them soon.

The girl nudged her shoulder then, and some inane question spilled out of her pretty pink lips. "Listen up, _Alouette_ ," Evelyn snapped, not realizing what she was saying. The blond girl looked confused for a moment, and opened her mouth to say so, but Evelyn just closed her eyes and shook her head.

Resisting the urge to snap again, Evelyn re-began her explanation - even as one last, traitorous thought about her blond-haired, blue-eyed soldier wedged it's way through to the forefront of her mind.

_Is he thinking of me?_

-.-.-

_Could it be you fear to die?_

He'd never felt stronger in his life as he slung Maurice over his still-aching shoulders. The muscles protested loudly at this mistreatment, but Edwin gritted his teeth and ignored it. All he could see in his mind's eye was Evelyn's determined eyes, whether she was slapping her brother soundly across the face or hugging him close. Or when she was telling him that he was to look after her brother in her stead and telling him that she hoped that he would come home too.

The clearest, most recent memory of her standing so close to him, lips pursued in what could have been an attempt at a kiss if she had not pulled away before he'd been able to react, stood out above the others.

Was she thinking of them, praying for them as she had promised?

_Is she thinking of me?_

No, he couldn't allow himself to think about that. Not when the very life she had asked him to protect was at stake.

Edwin continued his treacherous journey across the field.

-.-.-

_Take my hand, I lead you to salvation ..._

She didn't notice as the girl's hand slipped on the lever -

_-.-.-_

_Take my love, for love is everlasting ..._

He couldn't have known the mine was planted there -

-.-.-

"Stop!" The cry startled Evelyn out of her reverie as one of her friends knocked the girl's - _Alouette's_ , whispered a tiny part of her brain - hand aside and shifted the lever back to it's original position.

Evelyn paled considerably, turning to face Adélie. "That -"

Adélie's frightened expression mirrored her own as she spoke. "Sound the alarm." Her friend's voice was a hoarse whisper. Even as they spoke, the other nearby workers took notice and began to flee the building. Adélie turned to face the new girl. "This is your fault, you shouldn't have done that, you go alert the others."

"No," Evelyn found herself saying. "It was my fault, I was distracted. Both of you get out," she gazed at their shocked, unmoving forms. "Get out!"

The new girl did not waste any more time as she bolted for the exit, abandoning her bonnet in the process. The blue material fluttered to the ground, a stark contrast to the pale concrete.

"Evelyn ... be careful." Adélie watched Evelyn in breathless amazement for a second more before turning to leave.

Sparks began to emit from the machine as Evelyn pulled her bonnet down so that it rested around her neck. The air was beginning to fill with a thick smoke that seeped past her clothes and settled itself on her skin. Gathering her skirts in one hand, she ran towards what she knew as the closest alarm and yanked it hard. Evelyn tugged her bonnet up to cover her mouth and started for the exit. The smoke was so dense now, it was hard to see -

-.-.-

"Stop!" A tall, dark-haired man shouted from a few feet away. Edwin recognized him as a fellow officer, an older one who mostly kept to himself. "Don't move, _monsieur!_ You'll trip the landmine!"

Horrified, Edwin swayed dangerously on the spot before steadying himself. In his haste to bring Maurice to safety, he had neglected to keep an eye on the ground. His foot had already pulled on the wire. If he so much as moved his foot, the explosion would be upon them with hundreds of steel balls. Maurice's still body weighed heavily on his back. "How -"

The man gave a terrified glance to Maurice's unmoving form before pointing to the spot where the mine was undoubtedly planted. "Drop him, _monsieur_. If you lower the body on top of it," his hands made the gesture, "you may be able to step away. You do not want that _silent soldier_ to go off."

"No," Edwin spoke in a hushed tone. His heart pounded loud and fast as he made his decision. "Take him, good _monsieur_. I've promised the sister of this young man that he would make it home in one piece."

"Are you sure?" The man asked, looking concerned. "He is wounded, he might not even last the rest of the day, from the looks of him. You, however, still have a long life ahead of you."

The gunshots rang through the air behind them as Edwin stood, clutching Maurice to his shoulder. "Take him," he repeated. The soldier approached cautiously, and hefted Maurice onto his own sturdy shoulders.

"I shall see you again in paradise, good _monsieur_." The tall man gave him a respectful salute with his free arm. "Give me a few moments to reach safety, and once we are clear I will call upon you. I promise your sacrifice shall be remembered. This young man will live; I swear this on my own life."

Edwin smiled slightly, carefully wiping the sweat that had gathered on his brow. " _Merci_."

-.-.-

_It is the music of a people who are climbing to the light ..._

The explosion was coming. It hurt to know it was coming. To stand rooted to the spot in panic and fear, to know death was coming for you as surely as it did for everyone - only that yours was much, much sooner. To know that soon your body would be engulfed in fire and flames, regardless of whether you burned.

-.-.-

_For the wretched of the earth ..._ **  
**

In one ridiculous, fleeting moment, Evelyn wished she had kissed him goodbye before he had left.

-.-.-

_There is a flame that never dies ..._

Edwin's last prayer was that she would hear of his sacrifice and know that he had done it all for her.

-.-.-

_Even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise ..._

A tall figure stood, supporting another, smaller figure as the smoke and dust settled.

"Your sacrifice will not be forgotten."


	2. Together: Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Maurice is visited by his friends, and Colette muses quietly about her handsome soldier.

### Maurice Visited - 1939

The temperature outside had taken a turn for the worse. Colette tried to keep the threadbare blankets over her soldier's weakly kicking legs as he tossed and turned in his sleep. He was in no shape to travel - but it wasn't as if they had had a choice. She could hear her brother pacing worriedly outside, restless. Jean had not said too much about the young man's circumstances, only that he'd been wounded in battle and that he'd promised a fellow soldier to look after him. Colette had found something remarkably familiar about his features, and took to watching him mumble in his sleep to try and find out why. Had she seen him somewhere before?

The answer came on a that cold October night. Hallo'ween, to be exact.

She was stoking the fire in the inn they were staying at. Colette was forever thankful that her parents had left her and Jean enough to survive as they moved towards the center of France. Things were not getting much better for those few who had fled the border towns. Many had no place to go.

The lively flames sparked and jumped at her as she prodded the wooden logs, teasing her shivering hands and feet with its flickering warmth.

Suddenly she heard a groan from behind her. Quick as a mouse, Colette scurried to his side and placed a cool hand on his forehead.

" _'Mhhrrm_ ... " he mumbled through thin, pale lips. " _'s-s-sorr - eee_." He swallowed, and Colette held her breath, waiting for a name, a place, anything. " _F-froid._ " Then, more clearly - "Evelyn."

Colette couldn't feel her cold fingers and toes anymore. "Evelyn, Evelyn, Evelyn?" The whispered name forced its way out of her throat again and again. "My God. Evelyn, now I remember - Evelyn, how can it be?" The factory girl who'd saved her life. Who'd died saving Colette's life! Who'd taken her place to raise the alarm and told her to flee. Was this man her lover - husband - friend - brother - cousin?

Jealousy very nearly swept over her then, mainly because over the past week or so she'd begun to fall for this charming, wounded soldier. She poked around in her memories of Evelyn, trying to recall his name. M-something. Marius? Matthieu, perhaps? It was on the tip of her tongue, she was sure.

Colette brushed away some stray curls, willing him to speak in her mind. He did not. She covered him with another blanket and resumed her spot by the fireplace, as she was now too worked up to sleep properly. Perhaps she was simply dreaming that he would wake up and fall in love with her.

-.-.-

Maurice was dreaming. He was standing in the middle of an empty cafe - a very old, shabby one, by the looks of it - and next to him was Evelyn. Only, only she was not Evelyn. Snow had fallen outside the cafe, and suddenly Maurice felt a cold sweat break out on his forehead.

The woman - girl, his mind told him, she's too young to be a woman, really - had his sister's wide brown eyes, but the similarities seemed to end there.

After all, the Émilie he knew was taller, fuller, prettier. She did not wear rags like this girl did, and she certainly did not dress as a boy.

Evelyn, he corrected, frustrated with himself. Why was this dream so complicated? Why was he having trouble remembering his sister's name?

 _Evelyn, Evelyn, Evelyn?_ The echoes of a sweet, melodious voice seeped into his ears. Maurice shook them away. He didn't want to wake up yet - it hurt when he woke up.

The girl by his side - Éponine, some part of him insisted - was watching him with a mixture of amusement and affection.

"Figured it out yet, Marius? Why we're here, like this? You've always been smart, Marius, even though you're a bit -" she cut herself off abruptly.

He had no idea. He shook his head. "My name is Maurice."

"Your name is Matthieu, too. We've had lots of names, Marius." Her head cocked to the side, and now he could see that even though her clothes were shabby, her face was clean and free of the usual streaks and smudges of grime that coated the poor.

"I'm Maurice," he insisted stubbornly.

"You are, just like I'm Evelyn. Just like Edwin is Enjolras. Don't know why I never saw it b'fore," Éponine - he had decided to call her that, for his sanity's sake - said, shaking out her hair, which was just as clean as the rest of her.

Maurice was having a hard time hearing her speak through her street accent. He wondered, briefly, if Evelyn could sound like that if she tried it. "Why am I here, then?"

"You're halfway there," Éponine sadly. "Not here, not there." She sat herself down on the dusty floor, patting the ground next to her. Hesitantly, Maurice joined her. "It's okay, though, you're here now. An' soon you'll be back there, with Cosette, the little lark. Soon." Her face scrunched up a tiny bit, but she did not look too displeased. "S'pose she'll always be Alouette to me. But let's not talk about her. Where's Enjolras? What happened to him?"

"Enjolras?" Maurice was trying desperately to keep up with Éponine, but he kept getting lost along the way. His mind was telling him and showing him what Éponine was saying was true, but he found it hard to straighten out his thoughts. He saw himself, in terribly outdated clothing. Marius Pontmercy. Had that been his name, some time ago?

"Edwin, then. Where'd he go?" Éponine looked impatient, then relented. "I know s'hard at first, tryin' to sort out what's now and what's then, but you don't need to worry 'bout that, Maurice." The tone in which she said his name was a bit mocking, probably because she wanted to call him Marius instead.

"He ... died," Maurice said slowly, trying to force his sluggish brain to remember the facts. "He saved my life. He set off the s-mine. He died."

"He must've moved on already, then. Or he's somewhere else," she sighed. "I was hopin' to see him b'fore he did. I should've been a bit nicer to him, really. We never really talked about us, y'know. Even with you and Grantaire stirring up all that trouble about him likin' me, we never talked about us."

"Moved on ... " Maurice echoed briefly.

"Ah, well, I'll see him again in a bit, I'm sure. He's probably just first t'go, that's all. Funny, that, 'cause I was first last time. Guess it's his turn now."

Maurice shifted his legs nervously, "Will I be okay when I wake up, Éponine?"

"'Ponine, you used to call me that, y'know? Little 'Ponine. You should be goin' soon, Maurice. And don't you worry about me 'n Edwin. We'll be seeing you eventually," Éponine continued evasively.

Maurice did not know what else to ask, and 'Little 'Ponine' did not offer any more information. "So now we wait?"

"We wait," Éponine affirmed, taking his hand in her and braiding her soft fingers with his. "Together."

Together, they sat on the floorboards of the Musain and waited for Maurice to awaken.

-.-.-

Weeks later he was sitting up, fully aware of his surroundings. His blurry eyes took in the sight of the shabby, plain room. He tried to speak, to call out - but a wheezing croak eased out of his dry throat instead. There was a startled shout from outside, and a yellow figure blurred into the room.

"You're awake!" The squeaking hurt his ears, making him scrunch up his already-scrunched face.

"Oh, _excusez-moi_ , I didn't mean to be loud," she whispered, inching closer. The squeaky girl came into focus - she was stunning. Maurice let out a wheeze of surprise as he tried to prop himself up further.

"Here, let me help," she wrapped soft arms around his waist and awkwardly adjusted his position against the headboard.

Maurice smiled weakly at her, feeling dizzy from the sweet flowery scents that were encompassing his head space. It occurred to him that he probably wasn't smelling as nice as he'd like to, which he didn't like at all. He opened his mouth, slowly forcing each muscle in his jaw into action, and tried to speak again.

"Hush!" The blonde angel insisted, now dabbing at his forehead with a cool cloth. "Rest. I'll redo your bandages -" Maurice was finding it harder to concentrate, so he gave up and closed his eyes. "- you're safe here, Maurice. I will never go away. I will be by your side everyday." He felt her soft fingers - so like Éponine's, only somehow even softer, probably because it had only been a dream - stroke his damp hair.

Maurice smiled - or tried his best to - before sleep and fatigue overtook him once more.

-.-.-

Maurice found himself precariously perched on top of an extremely battered piano in the middle of the street. Stumbling, he grabbed onto the nearest thing to steady himself - a pole that led to a large, bullet-riddled red flag. He stood there, staring at it for a moment, trying to place its familiarity. Finally, Maurice sighed and began to climb down the pile of furniture, brushing off some wood dust and splinters from his pants.

He knew who would be waiting for him at the bottom before he even got there.

"Maurice," Enjolras greeted him, smiling benevolently at the flag that flew above them. "Isn't it beautiful? Patria. The country and the girl. Your daughter. Ta fille." The man's lips quirked in a way that confused Maurice. Somehow humor and this man - who looked like Edwin as Éponine had looked like Evelyn - did not seem to fit well. together. "I used to call Patria my mistress, when we were fighting here," Enjolras gestured at the barricade surrounding them, "I don't suppose I'll be able to do that in good conscience anymore," the revolutionary gave a wry grin that did not help settle Maurice's nerves, "Éponine might kill me."

Maurice wasn't quite sure what to say to that.

"I'm sorry," Enjolras apologized, looking more serious now, "I'm forgetting myself - Maurice, I'm unsure about how much Éponine told you, but from the look on your face, it may be safe to say very little."

"I don't understand a single thing. Éponine kept calling me Marius at first and I -" Maurice broke off, grabbing at his hair in frustration as he tried to slow the river of words pouring out of his mouth. "- why am I seeing you in my dreams? Am I dead now? I remember ... someone was taking care of me. In a room somewhere." _And she was beautiful,_ he neglected to add, because somehow he felt Enjolras wouldn't appreciate him mooning over some girl he hadn't even properly met yet.

"You are far from dead, my friend. You still have a whole life ahead of you. When tomorrow comes, Cosette will be by your side," Enjolras assured him. "Éponine and I, on the other hand ... we are the ones who are gone, Maurice. Éponine and I - your Evelyn and Edwin, are gone."

" _Non. C'est pas vrai!_ " Horror stole over Maurice and ice water flooded his heart. His sister, his loving, caring, beautiful Evelyn. Evelyn, who was forever tormenting him and pushing him around, who baked cookies when he was sad, who patched up his skinned knees and kissed his bruises better when they were little.

"No, you - she - can't be!" Edwin, dead? Edwin, who had taught him to aim, who had been by his side through thick-and-thin in the face of every argument and disaster, who had been like a brother to him and to all the men they had trained with. "No, please, Enjolras. Tell me that it's just a part of the dream."

A shadow seemed to fall over the other man's face as he pulled a chair out from the barricade and braced himself against it. After a pause he offered the chair to Maurice, who's legs were shaking underneath him. Maurice staggered over the few steps towards the proffered seat and collapsed into it.

"I'm sorry, Maurice. I'm sorry we had to leave you." Maurice heard Edwin's remorseful voice from Enjolras' lips. Maurice squeezed his eyes shut.

"I just want to wake up now," he whispered, feeling like a small child as he did so. He looked into the pair of striking blue eyes, trying to find comfort there.

"I'm afraid that's not up to me. It's up to you to wake yourself up, _mon ami_ ," Enjolras placed a shockingly warm hand on Maurice's shoulder, gripping it lightly. Maurice felt the strength and camaraderie he remembered from the time he spent with their friends. He remembered times gone by, joking with Coyne, listening to Julien's poetry, and even drinking with Grégoire. He remembered his friends and suddenly he did not feel so alone with Enjolras by his side. "We wait together, as we always have."

As the silence stretched on, Maurice reached up to grasp Enjolras' hand with his own. " _Merci,_ Enjolras."

-.-.-

He wasn't sure what time it was when he woke again, but he did know that he felt much better than he had the first time. The girl - Cosette, Maurice remembered Enjolras had called her - was asleep in the chair by his bed. She looked peaceful in her slumber, and Maurice longed to touch the stray curls that had tumbled onto the bedsheets while she slept. Her fingers twitched in her sleep, and her head shifted from its position on her arm. How many nights had she spent curled up by his bedside, tending to him? Guilt and gratitude rose up in his chest, warming his heart.

His twisted his torso experimentally, trying hard not to pull at the bandages wrapped tightly around his leg. Maurice felt the muscle tug before the pain came - he bit down on the soft inside of his cheek in an effort to keep from screaming. Red blood filled his mouth, covering his tongue and teeth with a metalic taste. A frustrated whimper edged its way out, coloring his lips and cheeks along the way. He didn't want to dirty the bedsheets, so he sat there like an idiot with a mouthful of blood, trying to figure out whether or not to wake up his sleeping nurse.

Maurice spotted the cloth sitting in the plain bowl filled with lukewarm water by the bedside. After some careful maneuvering, he managed to retrieve the bowl in shaking hands to spit in. It felt dirty, disgusting even, but he couldn't bring himself to wake up Cosette from her fitful sleep. The reddish color sank into the water, swirling and mixing. Maurice set the bowl back down as fast as he could, not wanting to look at it any longer - some of the water swishing out and spilling over the side. He had seen enough blood for a lifetime.

The clunk of the bowl being set back onto the wooden table stirred the previously unmoving head of curls.

She startled from her slumber, posturing straightening as she stared blankly at him. "You-" Her hand covered her mouth with a look of wonder before she bolted up to retrieve the damp cloth from the dirtied bowl resting on the nightside table. "I'll go clean this, I'll be back - stay here ..." she mumbled absently, her own cheeks flushed as she stood, leaving Maurice to dab at his bloodied lower lip with his fingers.

"Not goin' anywhere," he managed to call after her weakly, an attempt at humour. Maurice could hear her choked, startled laughter as she crossed the doorway.

It was a beautiful sound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This chapter was really iffy for me, mainly because all this afterlife stuff is driving me bonkers as I try to decide what is too ridiculous to include. I very nearly cut out all of the parts including Éponine and Enjolras ... so feedback on this chapter would be fantastic! As for how that came about ... Éponine just insisted on showing up and confusing the heck out of him. Maurice needed closure, I think, so that's what this was supposed to be. Not to mention we also needed closure. Cosette's name is Colette this time around, but Maurice is calling her Cosette because he doesn't know her actual name, in case you were confused.

**Author's Note:**

> I was writing this and realized belatedly that one time instead of 'Edwin' I wrote 'Enjolras'. Such is life.
> 
> In case of confusion, the fourth-last and last parts were written to be from two different points-of-view. The part following 'music of a people' is Evelyn and Edwin, and 'the darkest night will end' is Adélie (Azelma) supporting the new girl (Cosette) and the soldier who saved Maurice (Jean Valjean) supporting Maurice, of course.
> 
> You will have noticed a lot of overlap between this cycle and the two previous ones. (The dress and gloves, 'Apollo', 'Alouette'.) This is because they're experiencing feelings of déjà vu along with very, very, very faint memories of their past lives. I hope the parallels I drew between Edwin and Evelyn's situations weren't too confusing overall, but the main point was supposed to be that they died at the same time.
> 
> I know I killed them both off again, but I swear it's going to be better, just stick with me on this!
> 
> I positively enjoyed writing Enjolras and Grantaire, mainly because their relationship is so dynamic and amusing to me. Between Grantaire and Eponine, it's fun to watch them bring Enjolras to his wits' end. Completely unrelated - I know I've been writing Enjolras as blonde since that's how he's officially described, but in my mind I'm picturing Ramin Karimloo. Just putting that out there. As for Eponine, I don't really have an actress in mind, although I suppose it would be Samantha Barks, as she is the only one I've ever seen as Eponine.
> 
> Regarding Eponine's character development, she's definitely starting to feel more fond of Enjolras, if you couldn't tell. I had decided for him to fall for her first, mainly because I saw Eponine's ties to Marius harder to sever. Even in this chapter, she's not quite sure about how she feels about Enjolras, you'll recall she states that she thinks fondly of him, but that's all. She does tease a bit in this chapter, I consider that to be her way of dancing around how she feels.
> 
> The idea as they continue to reincarnate is that Eponine begins to see Marius as more of a friend and a brother than a love interest. I hope this makes things a bit more clear. The next reincarnation will absolutely have them more romantically involved, yay! There will probably be two or so more reincarnations before this story is done (unless someone wants to freaky futuristic-space thing, which I doubt makes a good setting for these two).
> 
> -.-.-
> 
> Historically, the Saar Offensive takes place at the beginning of WWII, shortly after France joins in. While the German forces are deployed in Poland, France sends in it's divisions to seize the area between the Siegfried Line and the French border on September 3rd. At first, everything is successful and they begin to gain control over the area. The French begin to slow their aggressive invasion. On September 30 the French army is ordered to retreat. In mid-October the Germans launch their attack and reclaim most of their territory.
> 
> After this the Phoney War begins.
> 
> Again, I'm no history teacher, I did some brief research on the Saar Offensive so I could have the setting for the story. I know nothing about French armies, German armies and all of that. I'm really sorry if it's inaccurate, but I'm not really writing this for just the history's sake.
> 
> The 'silent soldier' mentioned is a S-mine, which is a kind of trip-wire explosive. It's described as a tin-can shaped object that, when activated, is thrown into the air, and shortly after explodes, sending a large amount of shrapnel flying.
> 
> As for the factory part, I did basically no research on that, essentially something just malfunctioned and a small machine or somesuch blew up a small(ish?) area. I know it's not well planned, but ahhh, what else could I have done? Cornier things have happened, really.
> 
> Overall, I'm not 100% happy with this chapter, but after meddling with it for a while it doesn't seem to be getting any better or easier ... Hopefully that's just me being really picky with it as I compare it to the last one. If there's something I should fix, tell me! I'm open to criticism.


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